Beach Lane

“What are you doing later?” Jeremy asked. “My friends are having a bonfire in Montauk tonight.”

  Just as Eliza was about to ask what time, her cell phone rang with a piercing shrill.

  “Sorry—let me just take this,” she said. “Oh, Lindsay, hi! Charlie’s having a party? No, he didn’t tell me. Tonight? Oh my God, I’ve been dying to get in there. Sure, I’m not doing anything! What time should I meet you guys?”

  She clicked off, a happy smile on her face.

  Jeremy turned away and scowled at the ocean. Did she really just make other plans right in front of me after I asked her out?

  “About tonight . . .,” Eliza said hesitantly. “Something just came up for later. But maybe we can still do dinner or something?”

  “Sure.” Jeremy nodded. He wouldn’t normally have said okay, but there was something about Eliza that made guys agree to lots of things they normally wouldn’t.

  jacqui is still testing out that brazilian saying

  MEANWHILE SOMEWHERE IN BRIDGEHAMPTON WAS A bed with two lumps underneath. Jacqui and her new boyfriend were spooning, and she was happy to feel the warmth of another person next to her. It was the most comfortable she’d felt in weeks.

  “Oh . . . Luca . . .,” Jacqui whispered.

  A tousled head shot up. “What did you say?” he asked Jacqui. “What did you call me?”

  “Leo . . . Leo . . . I said, ‘Oh, Leo,’ ” Jacqui explained, peppering his face with kisses. “I said, ‘Leo . . . meu amor. . . .’ ”

  Leo settled back down next to her, even though he wasn’t quite sure that Jacqui was thinking about him. Jacqui lay there, thinking of how Leo was a bad idea she couldn’t shake. Jacqui couldn’t help herself. She was the type of girl who always had a boyfriend, and she needed to do something to stop herself from crying all the time, and finding solace in Leo’s skinny arms seemed to do the trick.

  After the scene at the polo match Jacqui hadn’t had the heart to continue working. Who could work when your heart was stomped on and thrown to the dogs? Instead she holed up in Leo’s room, watching bad television and raiding the fridge. She had gone back to the Perry house to pick up clothes when she knew Eliza and Mara were out with the kids.

  She didn’t want to face them. They had been so nice to her at the match, but she just wanted to be alone, or at least alone in the only way she knew how to be. She knew she was going to get in trouble, but she was in a foreign country, in a place that only meant something to her because of the guy she loved, and somehow everything that she knew was actually important—like her job—just . . . faded away. She thought about maybe just getting on the next plane back to Sao Paolo and forgetting all about the Hamptons. She hadn’t even spent any of the money she’d made so far. That morning, she’d looked up ticket prices on Leo’s laptop. But right now, she didn’t even have the energy to leave the shelter of Leo’s bedroom, and she had a feeling that feeling wasn’t going to go away anytime soon.

  Anna would probably fire her when she got back, but Jacqui was too far gone to care.

  How silly of her to think that anyone could really love her. Their two weeks in São Paolo were nothing but a mirage. What had Eliza said? He was a “player.” Someone who pretended to be in love with her, but he was really only in love with her body. Just like every other guy on the planet. No one ever got past her looks to bother with the real person inside.

  Leo seemed different at first. Yeah, he was always telling her how beautiful she was, but he was also always mentioning how lucky he felt. When she looked at him, she didn’t feel any butterflies, and when he kissed her, she didn’t close her eyes and see fireworks. But she could pretend. She was good at that.

  He was sweet. He was a nice guy. And right now, he would have to do.

  mara finally orders the right kind of drink

  SHE COULD GET USED TO THIS LIFE, MARA THOUGHT AS SHE sipped on her second frozen star fruit margarita. The cool, sweet, and tart concoction tasted like liquid heaven, and she was getting a nice buzz from the pure agave tequila. Better yet, Ryan had asked her to come with him to the party—as friends of course—it wasn’t a date or anything. But Mara had been flattered enough that she was trying very hard to put the weirdness of that morning behind her.

  The two of them shared a prime outdoor table with an ocean view, underneath a heat lamp. Lucky Yap had swished by and took yet another photo of the two of them. By now it was such a common occurrence, Mara knew how to pose to show off her best side.

  Ryan explained it was some party for an old friend of his. Whoever it was, he must be really important, Mara decided. Around them assorted glitterati mingled and table-hopped. Mara had already spotted the teenage star of the summer’s hit movie, the game-winning shortstop of last year’s World Series, and a slew of quasi-famous reality TV stars, from the twenty-something socialites who had shipped themselves off to boot camp to a couple who had met and married on a dating show.

  If Megan could see me now, she thought, feeling a little homesick at the memory of her funny older sister, who worked at the local beauty shop and spent her days giving the local clientele her approximation of the latest Hollywood looks. Mara promised herself she would remember every detail so she could tell her sister all about it.

  But her mind kept wandering back to the scene in the kitchen. So Ryan had a girlfriend, so what? She kept reminding herself that she had a boyfriend, too.

  And so what if Ryan liked redheads? Who didn’t? Mara thought as she unconsciously pulled on her own dark locks. The girl was cute, Mara would give her that. Too cute. She could surf, too. Mara was a flop at athletics. Always the last picked on any team. Cute and could surf. And blessed with a hot little body that filled out her string bikini top. Speak of the devil . . .

  “There you are!” the girl said breathlessly, giving Ryan a quick kiss on the lips before she sat down.

  Mara tried to curl her lips into a smile, but they wouldn’t obey.

  “Hi! I’m Camille!” she said, sticking her hand in Mara’s face.

  “Mara.”

  Camille leaned forward to whisper something in Ryan’s ear. The two of them started to laugh, and Mara felt extremely uncomfortable.

  “Sorry! We’re being so annoying, aren’t we?” Camille asked. “Being in love is so sick!”

  “How did you two meet?” Mara asked. She and Ryan had avoided talking about this—her—until now, but Mara was above all that. At least, she would try to be.

  “Oh, I used to work for Ryan!”

  “How do you mean?”

  “She was, uh, one of the au pairs . . . before you guys came,” Ryan explained, a little apologetically.

  “Yeah, getting fired was, like, the best thing that happened to me! I got a job at Bamboo and I’m staying at my friend’s place in North Haven. And now I don’t have to feel guilty about dating the boss’s son!”

  Ryan laughed nervously.

  “So! Mara, you replaced me!” Camille joked. “How are the kids doing?”

  “They’re fine. We take them to Georgica every day,” Mara said.

  “GEORGE-i-cuh,” Camille said, batting her eyelashes.

  “What did I say?” Mara asked.

  “George-EEE-cah.”

  “Oh.” Mara couldn’t tell the difference.

  “Accent’s on the first syllable, not the second,” Camille explained. “Lots of newcomers do it. Where are you from? New Jersey?”

  Mara had been in the Hamptons long enough to know when she was being insulted. She didn’t reply.

  “Ryan, let’s go dance! Can we dance? Please . . .” she whined, pulling Ryan up to the dance floor, leaving Mara at the table alone.

  Mara ordered another drink, determined not to feel abandoned. She couldn’t tell exactly why she was so irritated. A breathless Eliza rushed in and took the empty seat.

  “I’m so sorry I’m late! Jeremy and I went to Lunch for dinner and we got lobsters and corn bread. I’m SO fat from the carb bloat!” Eliza giggled as she kissed Mara hello. br />
  “Jeremy with the clippers? You went out with Jeremy?” Mara asked. She’d met him the first week. He’d been really nice about helping her navigate the estate. Mara looked at Eliza with a new perspective. Jeremy was a real good guy—a solid guy—she didn’t think someone like Eliza would ever be interested in someone like him.

  “Yeah, we spent the whole day together. It was awesome. Oh, look, there’s Lindsay. Hiiiii!” Eliza said, waving.

  “So why didn’t you bring him? Didn’t you have a plus one?” Mara had learned that anyone who was anyone had their name “plus one” on the guest list.

  “Oh, he would never fit in here,” Eliza said between getting up and saying hello to her friends.

  “What do you mean by that?” Mara asked.

  “You can’t just bring someone like Jeremy into this world,” Eliza explained. “Oops! Watch it!” she snapped as an overeager birthday well-wisher spilled his whiskey on the rocks onto her dress.

  Eliza wiped off the stain, a little annoyed. “People can be so rude,” she griped.

  “What world?” Mara asked stubbornly. Her good feeling toward Eliza had vanished. Jeremy was from the same background as Mara—his dad was a carpenter, her dad was in construction. His mother was a teacher, Mara’s mom was a social worker. In fact, back home she was a lot more like Jeremy than Eliza.

  “You know, all this,” Eliza said airily. “Oh, there’s Charlie. Hey!” She got up and ran after him. She wanted to make it up to him for missing him at the polo match.

  What the hell did Eliza think she was doing, chasing after Charlie when she just had dinner with Jeremy? Mara frowned. She was already in a bad mood from meeting Camille, and now she was totally offended by Eliza’s breezy generalizations and insouciant snobbishness.

  Mara had started to really like Eliza, too, even if she was kind of princessy and prone to flake. Eliza had a natural charm about her that Mara had gravitated toward, and she was still grateful for the makeover. Her hair had never looked this good. But now this . . .

  Her cell phone blared the familiar chords. Oh, oh, oh, sweet child o’ mine . . .

  Mara checked the caller ID.

  JIM M flashed.

  Ugh.

  She shut it off. Ryan might have a girlfriend, but that didn’t mean she was ready to make up with her boyfriend. Yet.

  ryan gets schooled

  AT THE END OF THE EVENING THE REST OF RYAN’S friends trooped to Charlie’s after-party at the nearby American Hotel, and Eliza had gone with them, but Mara had pleaded exhaustion. Camille had left, so Ryan took Mara home.

  “You know, we never did get to have that Scrabble game,” Ryan said as he pulled into the driveway.

  “Yeah, I guess we both got kind of busy,” Mara said, a little more cutting than she’d meant it.

  Ryan gave her a sidelong glance. “Do you want to play?”

  “Sure.”

  They set up the board in the kitchen, and Mara counted out the tiles. She adored board games. She knew it was really dorky of her, but she couldn’t help it. In seventh grade she had won a Trivial Pursuit tournament, and she was addicted to the Game Show network..

  They played a heated battle, but Mara kicked his ass, spelling sacristy, temptation, and gigolo to Ryan’s cat, mop, and yam.

  Finally Ryan placed his tiles down and spelled “Xer.”.

  “Xer?” Mara asked. “Prefixes aren’t allowed.”

  “No, it’s like Generation X-er.” Ryan explained. “A member of Generation X. You know, those people who are a little older than us and sold out the grunge thing for five-dollar cappuccinos.” He smiled at her. “Let’s see. I’m on a triple-word tile. . . .”

  “Xer isn’t a word.”

  “Yuh-huh.”

  “No way. It’s slang.” Mara shook her head.

  “Are you saying you challenge?”

  “It’s not a word!” Mara laughed.

  “You’re killing me!” Ryan said.

  “I’m not going to challenge, but it’s not a word. Go ahead, leave it on. There’s no way you’re going to win anyway.”

  “Oh, look who’s cocky now.”

  “That’s right.” Mara grinned.

  “I’m not going to take your pity,” Ryan huffed, collecting his tiles.

  “Leave it! Leave it! I was only kidding.” Mara laughed.

  They put away the board game and Ryan opened a bottle of wine, which they drank while looking out at the view from the porch. But their silence wasn’t as comfortable as it had been all those times before.

  “So, what happened with Camille?” Mara finally asked.

  “She wanted to go to some fund-raiser in Wainscott. I didn’t have it in me to hit another party.”

  “She’s very . . . um, cute,” Mara offered.

  Ryan shrugged. “She’s nice,” he said, almost defensively.

  “Have you guys been seeing each other for a while?”

  “Not really,” Ryan said. “What about you and Jim? How long have you guys been dating?”

  “Since freshman year, officially. Unofficially, probably since third grade,” Mara said as if this conversation wasn’t unbelievably awkward.

  “Mmm,” he said. “It’s Camille’s birthday next week. What do you think I should get her? Is jewelry too much? It’s always so hard to figure out what girls want.”

  “Mmm,” she said. Mara didn’t want to hear any more of Ryan’s plans for his girlfriend’s birthday. “It’s so gorgeous out here,” she said, changing the subject. “You don’t know how lucky you are.”

  “Actually, I do,” Ryan said.

  “I’m sorry—I didn’t mean it that way.”

  “No, no, it’s fine.” He smiled a little.

  “It must be nice—being rich, I mean,” Mara said, a little shocked at her candor.

  “My dad’s rich. It’s his money, not mine,” Ryan said. “I don’t confuse the two. But I don’t fool myself about it either.”

  Mara wasn’t sure exactly what he meant by that, but by now they’d covered two of the most awkward conversations they could—significant others and money—and Mara was trying not to push her luck. She was also trying really hard not to let the hurt she felt about Camille and her New Jersey comment show through. Combined with Eliza’s take on Jeremy’s “status,” Mara was feeling more out of place than she had in a while.

  “What do you want to do with your life?” Mara asked. “Surf the Big Ten in Hawaii?” Oops, that didn’t sound so nice, Mara realized.

  “Nah—that’s just a hobby.” He paused. “I have an uncle in Paris. I think about moving there a lot and helping him with his business.”

  “That sounds nice. What’s he do?”

  “He owns a gallery. My mom’s brother. Not Anna’s. My real mom.”

  “Where is she?”

  Ryan looked sad for a moment. “Honestly, I don’t know. She said she was going to check out some ashram in Tibet. Or maybe she’s in South Africa, getting a face-lift on safari. I never know. The kids miss her. She was a lot of fun when she wasn’t crazy.”

  “Why? What did she do?”

  “Oh, one night she came home and she’d spent basically their entire bank account on a car and a couple of furs and she drove up Fifth Avenue wearing nothing but her underwear in the snow. The doctors said she was manic-depressive. I could have told anyone that. She would bake chocolate cakes and throw an impromptu birthday party and have us all wearing fun little paper hats and the next moment she’d be sobbing in the corner, threatening to slit her wrists.”

  “That’s terrible. I’m so sorry.”

  Ryan sighed. “It’s good to talk about it sometimes. Dad just pretends nothing ever happened and Anna’s been in the family forever. What’s your family like?”

  “We’re so boring.” Mara shrugged, feeling bad for being so testy earlier.

  “Boring sounds perfect.”

  “My dad’s in construction. He builds, like, developer houses, and he always complains about the shoddy job
s they do. He always tries to do his best, but no one ever wants to pay for it. They put, like, plastic windows in their houses. He’s a good guy. My mom’s a social worker. She works with autistic kids, home-schools them. I’m the youngest. My sister Molly is married and lives in South Boston with her husband. She has two kids. My other sister, Megan, is a hairdresser. She’s a riot. She makes all her own clothes and she looks like Julia Roberts.”

  “You guys sound close.”

  “We are,” Mara said, her eyes misting a little. She really missed them. “Every summer we go out to Glouster for a week. It’s nice. Nothing like this, though.”

  “What made you decide to take this job?”

  “I needed the money,” Mara admitted. “And talk about boring, nothing ever happens in Sturbridge.”

  “Well, I for one am glad you decided to make it,” Ryan said, leaning down to look in her eyes.

  Mara was a little drunk, and for some reason, she didn’t look away. He was gorgeous—but more than that, he was smart—and funny—and just adorable. She lowered her lashes. She felt his breath on her cheek. She raised her lips to meet his.

  And pulled away when she heard the patio door bang open.

  Poppy stood in the doorway, holding a cigarette and an open bottle of beer. “Ryan! I didn’t see you there! You scared me!”

  “Hey, sis,” Ryan said, easing back into his seat.

  “How was Charlie’s?” Poppy asked, leaning on the glass door. “Oh, hey, you’re, like, one of the au pairs, aren’t you?” she said, turning to Mara.

  Mara nodded.

  “That’s Mara. Mara, you’ve met my sister Poppy, haven’t you?” Ryan asked.

  “I think I’ll go to bed now,” Mara said, jumping up and saying good night.

  “Good night,” Ryan said, trying to catch her eye, but Mara refused to look at him.

  Poppy shrugged. There were so many people going in and out of their house, it was hard to keep track. “Ry, you got a light?”

  “You shouldn’t smoke,” Ryan told his younger sister on his way inside. “It’s bad for your skin,” he said with an ironic smile.